On Graduation Day
by Ink Penn
Summary: Momoshiro’s high school graduation day holds far more precious memories than that of the traditional ceremony. :MomoxRyoma:
1. Apprehension

**Disclaimer**: Tennis no Oujisama/Tenisu no Oujisama/Prince of Tennis has been created by Konomi Takeshi-sensei. I make no money via this piece of fanfiction and no infringement is intended.

* * *

**On Graduation Day**

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Summary: Momoshiro's high school graduation day holds far more precious memories than that of the traditional ceremony. Momoshiro x Ryoma Yaoi warning

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**Chapter 1**

**Apprehension**

* * *

"Please applaud for the valedictorian, Class 3 A's Tateyama Hiromi!"

Ryoma could hear the teacher's voice, albeit only faintly, from where he sat on a bench near one of the tennis-courts in the school. He had come out here as soon as Momo-sempai had received his high school graduation certificate. Momo-sempai would surely not have noticed him, though – simply because he would not have been expecting him to attend the graduation ceremony. After he had completed his middle school, Ryoma had moved back to the US for further tennis training. He had not returned to Japan since then. However, he had kept in touch with Momo-sempai. In his last email, Momo-sempai had written that he had passed the entrance exam of the university of his choice. Soon, he would move into a 1DK he had rented near the university.

Other than the fact that he had gained quite a few inches in his height, Momo-sempai seemed almost the same. Ryoma, too, hadn't changed much over these two years.

'I'm still much shorter than Momo-sempai,' he mused. Even though he felt as if it had been very long, nothing seemed to have changed.

Or had it?

Momo-sempai had continued playing tennis in high school. With his personality, he had made many friends – friends which Ryoma had seen only through the pictures he had received. He did not know whether there had been any girlfriends because Momo-sempai had never written or spoken anything about that matter. All the while during the plane journey from the JFK to Narita, he had wondered about it. It hadn't exactly been the first time he had thought hard about the matter. Only now that he was finally going to meet Momo-sempai, he felt the strangeness of his situation far more strongly than ever before.

After all, why had he come all the way to Tokyo?

He stood up as the noise from the auditorium grew louder. The ceremony was over. Old friends were parting… laughter, tears and lots of words they wouldn't dream of saying if it had not been the graduation day.

His sharp eyes easily spotted Momo-sempai. Even if he hadn't had the natural keenness of sight, the girly squeals and sobs of "Momo-chan!" would have easily helped him locate his friend.

He frowned as they crowded around him. What in the world was going on? They were actually pulling at his… uniform? No, he realized, it was the _buttons_ on the uniform. He had forgotten about that tradition. When he had first heard that a girl at high school graduation would ask for a button from the uniform of the boy she loved, he had imagined it to be some private exchange. He hadn't pictured it as a near-violent attack on the popular guy. By that theory, though, Momo-sempai appeared to be extremely popular.

Momo-sempai came into sight again, laughing and talking. He certainly didn't look as if he had been 'violently attacked' – at least he didn't look as if he was anything less than awfully pleased about it. He was clearly enjoying the attention.

Ryoma pulled down his cap and dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He was aware of his fame and that he wouldn't go unnoticed if he removed his black glasses and cap. He was usually not bothered by the fact. But right now, he was rather inclined to preserve his privacy. To an interested observer, it would seem to be a pretty commonplace disguise. Nevertheless, he guessed correctly that the families and friends would be too busy to pay any heed to him.

He was still a few yards away from Momo-sempai. It would be too flamboyant to dig his way through the crowd towards him. He grinned. He didn't need to do something like that. Momo-sempai would notice him – no, Momo-sempai had already noticed him.

Momoshiro's expression froze for just a breath of a moment before he turned back to his friends.

"Yeah, I'll keep in touch…," Ryoma could make out the words on his lips as he tried to get away from them.

His hands clenched into fists. What was this sudden strange feeling in the pit of his stomach? It wasn't quite the sort that led to the enthrallment of defeating a near-invincible opponent. He turned and began to walk towards the tennis courts again. This area was far more comfortable – and not only because he felt most at his ease on a tennis court. Despite of being pretty close to the main campus, he could expect to talk to Momo-sempai without interruption as it was shielded by thick growth of shrubs and trees.

The leaves crunched beneath the fast steps that were surely not his own.

"Yo, Echizen!"

Before Ryoma could turn, strong arms enveloped him in a firm embrace. He felt the warmth from his back rise up all the way to his cheeks.

"Been long, hasn't it?" asked Momo-sempai without relinquishing his hold on him. In fact, he seemed to hug him just a bit tighter as he said those words.

"Yeah."

As Momo released him, Ryoma stepped back and faced the person who had so consistently dominated his thoughts.

"Making international news now, aren't you? Man, but you still seem like the impertinent little brat challenging his seniors and being disagreeable all around!"

"I wasn't disagreeable at all," said Ryoma as he pocketed his shades, "You were the annoying sempai."

"Still the brat!!" Momo laughed and ruffled his hair. "Say, do you want to come down to my new apartment? I can even cook something!"

Ryoma picked up his cap and put it back on. "You can cook, too?"

Momo grinned and held up his fingers in the 'V for victory' sign. "Call me The Great Chef Momo-chan!"

Ryoma blinked. "Are you sure take-out won't be better?"

"Don't doubt my skills, ignorant one! Get a taxi, won't you? I'll tell my family to go home ahead without me."

"Eh? Is it okay? Were you going to dine with them today for…?"

"Nah, nothing of the sort," Momo cut him off, shaking his head. "You're here right now, aren't you? We've got to celebrate that before everything else!"

It definitely made Ryoma wonder if he was reading too much into it. Momo-sempai could have easily invited him to dine along with his family. However, he wanted to celebrate with him alone. Moreover, he hadn't shown any surprise except for the fraction of a second when he first noticed him. Characteristically, he had begun by showing his joy and asked nothing. Would they eat and drink, talk nonsense and play tennis? Ryoma definitely had one more selfish task to add to the schedule.

Folding his hands behind his head, he looked up.

He hadn't realized it before but he was standing beneath a sakura tree in full bloom. He caught a few petals as the wind gently blew them towards his face. His own family had gone on a trip to Kyoto. Apparently, his mother had insisted on celebrating hanami in Maruyama Park. In fact, that was partly the reason why he had come down to Tokyo earlier than he had planned. He needed some time in Tokyo strictly for himself.

It was imperative to sort out these… feelings… before they evolved into full-fledged distraction.

Ryoma was a genius – he was born to be a tennis player. He had never regarded the racquet or the ball with apprehension. He had never known the uncertainty of being on a tennis court for the 'first' time. All of it had always been some distant fairy-tale to him. Even so, as he walked towards the road, he admitted to himself that what he was feeling right then might be somewhat similar to it.

* * *


	2. Confession?

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Confession?**

* * *

Ryoma tried to recall the bleak autumn morning of his departure to the US. Truthfully, he couldn't recollect much about that time except listening to Momo-sempai's half-complaining, half-awe-filled monologue about the Golden Pair's latest techniques. Ryoma had speculated that some of those 'doubles specialty' moves could be modified into powerful singles shots. He had spent some time on the theory once in the US.

"Echizen!" The impact of Momoshiro throwing an arm across his shoulder brought him back to the present. "How about playing a match later?"

"Yes… let's check if you are still so easy to defeat as before."

"I'll make you regret those words, Ryoma-kun! Fanta?" offered Momo, pulling out some cans.

"Thanks! The old coach won't let me drink more than two of them in a week. I can't see what difference it makes!" exclaimed Ryoma as he broke open the seal. "What? Are we already there?" The taxi had stopped.

"Nah – I've got to get a few things. I'll be back in a minute."

Ryoma leaned back and pressed the cool can against his forehead. He knew that Momo-sempai had crashed his new bike only a few days ago and it was down at Yoshida-ojisan's for repairs. He had received an email concerning it as he had been checking out the flights to Tokyo. Momo-sempai would often send him a message about such things – it felt as if he told him about everything. At times, it was hard to believe that they were more than thirteen thousand kilometres apart.

He thoughtfully regarded the pack of Fanta cans for a moment; then picked up yet another.

Well, they were closer than three metres right now, he thought complacently as Momo-sempai returned.

* * *

The apartment was as messy as if it had been lived in for over a month and not tidied even once during the period.

Momoshiro kicked aside a heap of clothes from the bed with a sheepish grin. "Make yourself at home!"

Ryoma was no perfectionist when it came to keeping his room neat. However, he was rather proud of himself at the moment. At least his laundry didn't pile up to mimic bedcovering. He jumped up as soon as he sat down and had to remove a stray mechanical pencil before resuming his seat. The only thing that looked cared for was the backpack which Ryoma knew carried the tennis equipment. It sat not far from the kitchenette (which was clean, thankfully).

Momoshiro stood before the mirror regarding his battered uniform shirt. "Hell! They really destroyed it, didn't they?"

"It was… funny," said Ryoma, kneeling down to search for the manga collection that he guessed would be stowed under the bed.

He blinked at the naked woman on the cover of the magazine he had pulled out, with her private parts 'covered' by chains and Gothic Lolita hair-ties adorning her deep black hair.

"Oh, sempai has this kind of interest!"

Momoshiro, who was changing his clothes, had to struggle with the jeans he was putting on for the simple task turned difficult in his hurry. "What? _Echizen_! _Leave that alone_… the manga are on the left… the _left_!"

Nonetheless, Ryoma turned the pages of the adult magazine he had picked up. "Nobody really _does_ this, do they?"

Momo head-locked him in reply and snatched the magazine out of his hand. "Not Your Stuff, Kid!"

Ryoma winced as he pulled at the arm pressing against his neck. "All right! And I'm not a kid."

Momo-sempai released him and hit the top of his head with the magazine. "'course you are! Brat!"

The smaller boy instantly caught hold of his wrist and brought it down so that it was in level with his eyes. Leaning back against Momoshiro's chest to get a clearer view of the page, he asked, "They don't _really_… do it?"

Momo snorted. "Aren't you very interested, Ryoma-chan?"

Shoving back an elbow hard into his sempai's stomach, Ryoma replied, "I think my roommate poses for this sort of stuff. It's… _porn_, right? Not that I'd care but…" Ryoma turned a page and pointed at the model in a particularly horrifying position, "… won't this… break a few bones at least?"

"Your _roommate_?" Momo asked, flabbergasted. "You already live with a _girl_?"

"No, he's a guy. I meant my roommate in the dorms."

Momo clamped a hand over Ryoma's eyes and rested his chin on his shoulder. "I can't believe my little Echizen has finally grown up so much! And he has learnt of such naughty things!"

"You don't have to be an ass, Momo-sempai," was the reply in a no-nonsense voice. "It's not as if _I_ am doing that sort of thing. I told him I wasn't interested – I don't really want that sort of extra money."

They sat in contemplative silence for a few seconds. Ryoma was ensconced in Momoshiro's arms and the latter's left hand over his eyes to keep them closed.

As Ryoma blushed, realizing what he had just said, Momoshiro burst out laughing hysterically. "You… were… really… offered… something like… that…?" he stammered, holding on to Ryoma to keep himself steady.

"What is so funny about it?" asked Ryoma, struggling to break free. "Let go of me, already!"

Momoshiro backed away but continued laughing, banging a fist against the table. "This… is… absolutely… brilliant!"

Ryoma scowled angrily and kicked his side. "Stuff it! You idiot!"

He shoved the magazine back under the bed, a gentle flush moving down his neck. He returned to his original purpose of gathering some manga.

"Stop laughing already!" he snapped, as he snatched up the nearest pile of manga and climbed onto the bed.

Momoshiro gasped to a halt, wiping the tears of amusement. "Guess you've got stories more interesting than winning championships now, eh? I'm all ears!"

"Weren't you going to cook lunch?" said Ryoma pointedly. He lay on his side with his back to Momoshiro.

"Sorry… but imagining you… leather… chains… oh, okay…" He got up and raised a hand in peace as Ryoma glared at him. "Enjoy the manga – I'll get the lunch ready in a while."

He pulled on a t-shirt and began rifling through the wardrobe for a pullover.

* * *

"It's soba with wakame and prawns for lunch," announced Momoshiro, hoping to cheer up Ryoma, who hadn't spoken at all following his little outburst.

The younger boy suddenly sat up and turned to look at him. "Ummm… I can't really help you because I've never really cooked before. Maybe a bit of chopping and…"

Momo grinned and waved his hand. "It's easy, really. Nothing much requires chopping. You'd probably only get in the way."

"See if I ever offer to help you again!"

There was no chagrin in his voice anymore, though. He lay down once more, but this time facing Momo.

"Rude short-ie!" was the playful rebuke. "Although I bet I could teach you easily – I'm really becoming something of a genius, you know." There was silence again while he set about preparing the prawns.

"Echizen…"

"Yeah?"

Ryoma sniffed. The soft aroma of soba cooking in salted water tickled his nose. He had only had an apple for breakfast for he had to hasten to Momo-sempai's graduation ceremony. Much to Momoshiro's annoyance earlier, he had downed four out of the six cans of Fanta but that didn't stop him from feeling famished.

"It's really great to see you again – really. But it was a bit of a shock…"

Ryoma stared hard at the maniacally grinning face of the protagonist on the page of the manga. "I thought it would be a good surprise."

The strong smell of the prawns cooking overpowered that of soba. Ryoma could feel his hunger grow more painful in anticipation.

"Ah, well, it was."

And quite abruptly, the atmosphere turned heavy.

Ryoma frowned and closed his eyes, covering his face with the manga. For a while, nothing but the sound of running water and the clinking of utensils met his ears as Momoshiro soaked the wakame and rinsed the soba. Only once did he glance at Ryoma, stretched across his bed with the first volume of _One Piece_ on his face.

As Momoshiro finished peeling and cleaning the prawns, Ryoma said, "I really missed Momo-sempai."

Momo stiffened at the sudden confession. He went about preparing the avocado just a bit more rapidly and awkwardly than he would have normally. "Yeah… me, too," he began, "After all…"

"It was weird, really," continued Ryoma as though he hadn't heard him. "It was totally devastating! My coach has sent me back because he thinks I am homesick. It's a good thing father isn't here. He's going to drive me crazy if the coach has already told him about it."

Momoshiro's expression was tinged with gravity. "Echizen…" He stopped. What could he say?

"So I thought I'd come and meet you. That's why I came here so suddenly. This homesickness thing… it'll be cured if I hang around a bit, won't it?"

Momo turned to look at Ryoma. He grinned as their eyes met. "I'm flattered. You actually have a very cute side – no wonder you have so many fan girls. I bet Sakuno-chan is still in love with you."

"Who's cute?" asked Ryoma, sullenly. "You wonder why I am here out of the blue, don't you? I wanted to tell you about that, anyway. I've been thinking about it. It is odd, really, because it's actually a pretty stupid reason to leave the training. I think I won't even go home – I'm too embarrassed about it now. Saying it out loud… it all seems so childish of me!"

Ryoma felt very relieved as he picked up the manga again. To have been so 'homesick' so as to have it affect his game – it was awful. It hadn't really brought down his performance in matches, though. It was more about how a normal practice session would tire him far more than intended – about how he would space out and start thinking about Momo-sempai and the Tournaments he had played in Japan.

He hadn't really made any friends before coming to Japan. He had never felt the need to. However, the days spent there were golden memory that only made him lonelier as he practised with new coaches and students. It wasn't as if he was friendless in the US after his return. But his friends weren't really like… Momo-sempai. He couldn't feel even half as much at ease with them as he did with Momo-sempai.

Everything was okay now. It felt so much better to stay in his presence. As long as he could be with him like they always had, he would be content, he thought sleepily, closing his eyes. 'Yeah, always…'

* * *


	3. Expectations

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Chapter 3

**Expectations**

* * *

When Momoshiro had first seen Ryoma standing a few yards away from him that morning, he had doubted his sanity for a moment. 'Ryoma's in America!' his mind had screamed in anguish. But the seconds passed, and Ryoma remained where he was. He had definitely not been a trick of his mind, his heart appeased him. Ryoma had probably not noticed that he had been trembling with excitement. He couldn't help hugging him once they were alone. With a great effort, he had to stop himself from doing anything more.

Even so, Ryoma had been unusually radiant all the while he had been with him. He had talked more than he normally did. He had smiled and laughed far more than anyone who knew him would expect him to in such a short while. Did Ryoma realise that? Did Ryoma really understand how much he looked like he was in love? Or was it only Momo who wanted to believe that?

People change; and the two most frequent causes are being drunk and being in love. The shy ones become gregarious. The quiet ones turn into loquacious. But Momoshiro was no fool. Ryoma hadn't changed in that manner. But there was something subtly different about him. Ryoma… should he dare to suppose that Ryoma had finally come to the conclusion that he loved Momo? That he was no longer blind to the fact that Momo saw him as more than a friend, a tennis rival, and a kouhai?

Ryoma had come to him.

That was what gave him mad hope. No matter what reasons he spoke of, Ryoma had come to him. He had crossed half the world to come see him – Momoshiro Takeshi.

When had Momo first recognized his feelings as those of love? He couldn't tell. He only knew that he had had more than one reason for feeling wretched on the day he graduated from Seigaku. He had deliberately chosen a High School that was near Ryoma's place. He had stayed up long after many midnights, thinking about these feelings that would not leave him alone. There had been no place in his life for anything or anyone but Echizen Ryoma and tennis.

He had seen him leave Japan with a smile. At that time Ryoma had obviously not regarded him as anything more than a friend. If being a friend was what kept him close to Ryoma, he would play that part. More than once, in the month after Ryoma had left, he had contemplated telling him about his feelings. The separation was taking its toll on him. He had felt that he would literally die without him. Momo had never felt so intensely about another person. Somewhere, he had labelled his feelings as 'wrong'. Ryoma won't like them – he won't want them.

Ryoma, he had concluded dejectedly, probably never thought about such things. He remembered pitying Ryuzaki Sakuno when Ryoma just won't realize her feelings. Momoshiro was decidedly far more pathetic than the girl then.

However, he had recovered from the depression. He regularly wrote to him and messaged him. Ryoma's replies were few and far between. But it was apparent that he read each and every one of his words, no matter how pointless. 'If I keep talking to him,' Momo had thought, 'I'll not feel the distance between us so badly.'

Momo concentrated on tennis with a vengeance. It made him feel closer to Ryoma than a hundred emails. Even if he was perfecting his aim by himself, he could feel Ryoma's presence, hear the cocky 'Mada Mada Dane' if he failed and see the well-loved smile when he mastered a difficult move. Was he going mad? He didn't care if that was the case if it meant being just a bit happier.

The age-old balm of time had helped. He felt more at ease with the world where Ryoma wasn't physically present near him. He went to karaoke with a light heart and celebrated with his friends without his mind drifting off to imagining how things would be if Ryoma had been there.

And then, when he had ultimately told himself that their paths had separated for good, Ryoma stood there – waiting for him.

Momo had been in unusually high spirits few hours. He had held Ryoma twice to ensure that it wasn't an apparition. He had laughed with relief when the suspected apparition had sprung an unusual story – as only a 'real' Ryoma could. All he had wanted to hear was 'I am here for you – yes, I love you as intensely as you have loved me'. Would that be too much to ask for? Could such a thing possibly be real?

Now that Ryoma was so near him, he wondered if he'd be able to let go of him easily and oblivious of how he felt towards the younger boy.

He turned to look at Ryoma's sleeping figure. With a start he realised that it had gone dark. What time was it?

Momo switched on a night lamp. It cast a dim blue glow on the bed but Ryoma's face was still in darkness. But the gently rhythmic rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still fast asleep. Momo hadn't woken him up for lunch. He had sat at the table alone with his thoughts. It was now almost eight in the evening.

Momo picked up his cell-phone and went out.

It was chilly for an April evening. Momo wandered till he reached a dark corner which none of the streetlights illuminated.

"Atsuko, I won't be able to make it tonight... How about we go to the movies on Saturday? No… Well, some of my old buddies from middle school dropped in unexpectedly… No, we were together in the tennis club… I'm really sorry… Atsuko… Atsu…"

Momo sighed as his girlfriend hung up on him angrily. She had always been jealous of his passion for tennis because she knew that his adoration towards the game was on an entirely different level than his feelings for her. Momo wasn't in love with her but she had insisted that they go out. He would develop feelings for her - if only he tried. She had argued that right now, he only had tennis on his mind and that was what kept him away from dating like other guys did. Momo hadn't known how to contradict her. Moreover, a part of him wondered if he'd be able to let go of Ryoma – if only he tried.

However, that hadn't helped at all. The whole farce of his relationship with Atsuko had only reinforced the fact that what he felt towards Ryoma was definitely love. But he had only attached such feelings with bleak hopelessness and maintained his relationship with the older woman. He won't deny that it was comfortable being with her, especially since she often declared that he 'did not need to love her – only be with her'. Momo hadn't been in a relationship before that. He didn't have any particular ideals related to the matter and had gone along with the flow.

Nevertheless, Atsuko expected him to play the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn't care. It was fun being with her for most part.

Even now, as he was considering the prospect of confessing to Ryoma himself, he felt no qualms concerning Atsuko. They would have to break up and that would be it. There were no real feelings on his part when he had entered into the relationship. He didn't imagine that breaking up would be too big of an issue.

The only question in his mind right now was whether he ought to confess to Ryoma.

While a great part of him hoped that Ryoma felt the same way towards him, the clouds of doubt had not been dispelled. After all, Ryoma could only have been homesick.

What was he to do?

The theme from the anime Fullmetal Alchemist blared out from the pocket of his jeans.

"Eiji… I'm fine, yeah… Yeah… Oh, Eiji, I wanted to ask you something… No… Well, I was wondering if you'd come down from Hokkaido if you wanted to see me… Why? Oh well, I was just wondering… _No_! I _don't_ want you to come down… I said if _you_ wanted to see me – you know, just felt like it… What's corny? Forget it… No, I'm not in any trouble. Forget it… Yeah, I'll send it to you. Bye."

What was he doing asking Eiji such a weird question?

Momo turned homewards. How did one know what was the right thing to do when it came to love?

* * *

Momo was slightly disconcerted to find the bed empty on entering his room. However, he was soon set at ease as he noticed Ryoma in the kitchen warming the food he had prepared for lunch.

"Welcome back. You ought to have woken me up sooner," said Ryoma as he saw Momo.

"I didn't have the heart to disturb you – you looked like you really needed it." Momo smiled. It would be nice to get used to this sort of thing. In fact, it would be perfect – coming home to the fragrance of delicious food and the sight of Ryoma preparing his dinner. Yet, it was only what he desired. Such a thing… couldn't be reality.

It was all right to frame sentences for declaring his love in the sanctuary of his own thoughts. But as soon as he was near Ryoma again, such a thing seemed wishful thinking. Impossible. There was an indefinable something about Ryoma that forbade him from crossing the boundaries of comfortable friendship. Comfortable. That was the word. If Ryoma didn't feel about him the same way, things would not remain so sweetly comfortable between them. And Momo wasn't sure he was strong enough to bear being alienated from Ryoma on top of being rejected by him.

With a sinking heart, Momo realised that he had never truly graduated from being hopelessly in love with Ryoma. He was still the same pathetic guy with unrequited feelings of love as he was four years ago. In fact, all the measures he had taken to 'soothe' himself had only served to make him fall for Ryoma harder than before.

What should he do?

* * *

"I wish you'd not let me sleep the day off – I really wanted to play at least one match against you," complained Ryoma as he put on his jacket.

What was he doing? If Ryoma went away now, who knew when he'd return? How long was he going to live in this twilight zone of mixed misery and expectations?

"When will you be leaving tomorrow? Though I think you should stay at least until your family returns."

"No, I'm done with what I'd really come to Japan for, and my family will be coming to America soon, anyway. My plane leaves at four tomorrow morning." Ryoma stooped down to fasten his shoelaces. "I don't want to appear weak in front of my dad, I guess."

"You could stay the night here, you know."

"Yeah, right – like you have a futon, anyway."

_So sleep with me._

"Plus, there's some of my old stuff at home I thought I'd take with me. I've got to pack it up as well… Oh, hell. It's begun drizzling. I'll get going before the rain gets worse."

Momo, who had moved to the open corridor, looked down at the few pedestrians who had quickened their steps in the wake of rain.

"Senpai… See you later."

Momo didn't turn back to face Ryoma. He couldn't. His heart was beating wildly and he was sure his face was flushed. He hardened his grip on the wooden balustrade. It was all he could do to contain the words that tore at his heart.

"Yeah."

The sound of footsteps was eventually lost in the patter of rain that had increased its rhythm. Momo stood at the same place, drenched as the wild winds blew the water in his direction at irregular intervals. He could still make out Ryoma's outline as he hurried away into the distance.

_It wasn't right… letting him go like that again wasn't right…_

Momo let out a curse and dashed out towards Ryoma.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: I apologise for the unexpected appearence of an original character, Atsuko. The impertinence is necessary because no character from manga successfully fills her shoes. However, I can gurantee that she won't deliberately trample over the story - especially because I, too, am not at all fond of original characters.

* * *


	4. Dereliction

**

* * *

**

Chapter 4

**Dereliction**

* * *

At first, Ryoma blinked around bemusedly, wondering where he was. Before he could satisfy himself upon that point, he had already realised that it must have been the closing of the door that had woken him up. Momo-sempai. Yes, this was Momo-sempai's place. What had been the last thing he had been doing here? Waiting for food? Had he fallen asleep? Probably, that had been the case and Momo-sempai had let him sleep into the night.

"Sempai?"

There was no reply. He recalled that the sound of a door being shut was what had roused him out of his sleep in the first place. Sempai had probably gone out.

He became aware of something hard poking the side of his body and rolled away to uncover the manga he had been sleeping on. Ryoma got up, stretched and moved towards the window. It was the only source of light other than the faint blue night lamp. The wind blew in the smell of impending rain. If the threatening sounds of thunder was anything to go by, he supposed there might even be a storm coming.

Ryoma shut the window and turned on the lights.

He did not know what had caused his eyes to linger upon it. He had had no intention of making the bed – it seemed an impracticable task, anyway. However, there wasn't just the stray manga lying on the bed but also what was unquestionably a personal diary.

Momoshiro Takeshi definitely did not seem like the sort of person who kept a personal diary. It was a random and baseless supposition, though. Why couldn't Momo-sempai keep a diary? It was a perfectly normal possession.

Ryoma couldn't help it. It was as bad as chancing upon an oasis of Fanta after going thirsty for twenty years. Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but in any case, Ryoma couldn't help it. After all, Momo-sempai told him about everything that was going on in his life – he couldn't possibly have anything to conceal from him, Ryoma, could he? He was just going to take a cursory look, in any case. He wasn't the sort of person who gossiped or even spoke of things that weren't strictly his business. So there wasn't any harm that it could possibly do.

* * *

He fumbled about in the kitchenette merely because he couldn't sit still in the room. He desperately required something to occupy his hands while his mind worked furiously.

"_I love Ryoma and every single day, these feelings – they kill me…_"

What… what had _that_ been? He loved him like – like a _lover_?

More importantly, why did it seem the most natural thing in the world to Ryoma? It was so weird. For one, they were both guys. They were sempai and kouhai. They were close friends. Why would Momo-sempai feel _that_ way towards him? And why did Ryoma feel so 'normal' about it all? As if… as if he had known all along…

_As if I am in love with him myself…_

"What the fuck?"

His heart was thumping crazily. He could hear the roaring thunder outside albeit the sound was dimmed for he had locked the windows. It felt alien. Everything around him seemed unfamiliar. Where was he? What was he doing here? It felt as if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. However, there was no explaining why it was all so wrong.

He stared at the gently simmering soba – even that seemed odd.

His mind was steadily going blank. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to feel these bizarre emotions. He was trying hard to close himself to things he had never wanted to know and the knowledge of which, he felt, was rudely thrust upon him.

Ryoma had been so lost in his own mind that he did not hear Momo-sempai enter the room. It was a subconscious instinct that had caused him to turn around the very moment Momo-sempai moved so that they could see each other.

"Welcome back. You ought to have woken me up sooner."

The very sight of the person who filled his thoughts had wrenched him back to normalcy.

There was nothing in Momo-sempai's manner to suggest that he had ever thought about him in any way except as a friend. It evoked the same response from Ryoma, as if reflexively. It was one of the most well-done charades.

Of course, Momo-sempai didn't want to think about such emotions, either. He didn't want to mention things which would make the situation irrevocably uncomfortable between them. It was all Ryoma's fault. He ought not to have touched someone's personal diary in the first place. Curiosity always killed the cat.

Ryoma didn't really think of it all so lucidly. He only felt it in the few moments he uttered those words and things had fallen back to the way they were before he had come to own the particular bit of information.

For the next hour, they would interact as they usually did. Ryoma, as he left Momo-sempai's place wondered for an instance whether he had imagined the whole episode of strangeness.

* * *

The rain had worsened rather suddenly and Ryoma had decided to wait it out under the cover of some sheets that were suspended from the eaves of an ice-cream shop. He imagined they served as a makeshift roof for catering to customers who wanted to enjoy their treats outside. All the shops in this area except a convenience store had already closed. "Cool" had been no exception – he didn't know that there was anyone inside.

It was only a matter of minutes before he was proved wrong.

"Hey! You can come in here."

Ryoma turned to his right and found a young man leaning out from the threshold.

"Come on!" yelled the man, trying to make himself heard over the clamour of the storm.

Ryoma hurried inside and voiced his thanks.

"No problem. I was just doing the accounts – I am no good at maths, so it's a long and weary job. I'm glad for the company. Would you like to eat something – absolutely on the house?"

Ryoma declined the offer. He sat down at the one of the tables and focussed his attention on a magazine lying around. The young no-good-accountant had busied himself with his work.

The noise of thunder reverberated through the shop. Ryoma looked outside through the glass window in the door. Thick trails of water and the rain beating upon it made it impossible to discern anything beyond the pavement. The curtains were drawn over the French windows. It felt as if he was stranded in the middle of nowhere with no sense of time or direction.

"Oh hell!"

The oath was hardly audible over the roaring storm. The shop was suddenly drowned in darkness. Ryoma stood up and moved towards the door. While he wasn't achluophobic, it felt suffocating to remain seated there.

He could see outside more clearly now. It was deserted but the swirling trees and bushes, and the wind whirling wildly almost made up for it.

Ryoma narrowed his eyes. He thought he could make out a figure not far from the shop.

The next second, he was staring at the reflection of the counter and a couple of tables and chair. The lights were back on.

"Thank God! I thought it was going to last forever." His companion had first unsuccessfully attempted to turn on a battery-lamp and then had been fumbling around for a candle and matches.

However, Ryoma did not turn back. Even though he had only had a glimpse of that figure, he could not help feeling that it was not unfamiliar to him at all. In fact, he wondered if it wasn't a hallucination because his mind had little place for thoughts other than those concerned with _him_.

Ryoma pushed open the door and stepped out – he would confirm if it with his own eyes again.

"Hey! The storm's getting worse! You shouldn't go out!"

* * *

Had Momo-sempai noticed him, too, then? Because it was no longer the indistinct back that faced him but a well-remembered countenance albeit shielded by rain and darkness.

It was hard to stand still in the frantic winds but slightly easier to run. Ryoma didn't need to think twice. He had been filled with fear the instant he had thought that it was Momo-sempai retreating into an uncertain future away from him. He did not hear the shopkeeper calling out to him. He did not hear the ear-splitting thunder that followed the lightning. He knew. Now, he knew. And he was sure of what he wanted to do.

He advanced towards Momo-sempai, who had stopped when he saw Ryoma moving towards him. He stood with a hand on the grill bordering a small garden, separating it from the pavement.

Without a word, Ryoma threw himself into his arms, embracing him with all his strength. Momo let go of the cold metal and collapsed back into the ground, dragging Ryoma with him. He hugged him closer – trying to shield him from the menacing weather, trying to pull him as deep into himself as he could.

Ryoma was acutely aware of the strong arms encircling him and the broad back his own held on to. His face was buried in the shirt drenched in water, smelling of rain and flesh. The sensation of icy lips on the side of his neck was increased tenfold as warm breath that escaped them diffused on his skin.

He closed his eyes against the rain attacking it. And he did not open them when he was pulled back and freezing fingers wandered over his face. He only caught hold of the cold wrists and moved his face towards the one he sought most in this world.

Their breaths were the only shred of warmth in the chilling atmosphere around them. It was freezing their bodies, too but neither Ryoma nor Momo-sempai would be bothered. They greedily kissed each other, biting, licking and trying to reach out to each other as much as possible.

Ryoma entangled his fingers in the sodden hair and grasped the back of the muscular neck. He felt Momo-sempai pull him closer, his arms fixed firmly around him. He broke away for a moment to draw in his breath and opened his eyes. Momo-sempai was looking intently at him, his eyes smothering him in a way nothing could. He was breathing hard, too, he realised – they both were.

His expression of anxious desperation broke into light happiness as they continued gazing at each other.

Momo bent down and lightly kissed his forehead.

* * *


End file.
